


Untainted Innocence

by Nerdyesque



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Sins of the Father, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdyesque/pseuds/Nerdyesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In peace, sons bury their fathers. In war, fathers bury their sons. If you're a Winchester, you do both. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untainted Innocence

John rested his hand on his youngest son's hair, marveling at the rich color of the interweaving strands and idly noticing how similar it looked to Dean's gilded gold. Guilt rose fresh and sharp at the thought of his oldest boy, but he squelched it as he had with any emotions related to that son because inevitably it reminded him of the boy's mother and it was a downward spiral of guilt, love, resentment, fear, and self-loathing.

As if knowing he needed a distraction from his thoughts, precious eyes opened, trust and hope and love shining upwards at him. He was almost surprised they weren't hazel green, filled with the feral intensity of a burgeoning Hunter.

"Daddy, you're home!"

John smiled and swooped down, bussing kisses into the soft tender cheek. He'd missed this baby-scent; he couldn't remember Dean ever smelling like that. No, that one smelled of smoke and fire and wild green things, like some little forest godling placed in his care, worldliness etched too soon into an immature face.

"I –" he pretended something was caught in his throat (not emotion for Chrissakes) and coughed dryly, saving himself from lying. His home had gone up in a blaze of hellfire, a trapped and bleeding wife pinned to the ceiling as one son carried the other out into the hard cold world.

The boy beneath his hand ignored his silence and was uninterested in his existential crisis; instead he wriggled through his bedclothes into an upright position before hurling pudgy arms around him, head nestled against his breastbone.

"Will you stay this time?"

 _Different son, same sentiment._ John was a failure of a father no matter how he looked at it, but this one was innocent in ways Dean wasn't, could never be, and he couldn't bear to break this one's soul, so he tempered his response with a bit of the minute honesty he was infamous for.

"I'll stay as long as I can, Adam. I promise."

A cough from the door way brought his attention upwards to his youngest son's mother. She stood with her arms crossed, scowl forbidding on her face. John knew body language, however, and realized it was more protective than angry; he'd broken more than a few promises to Adam, though he was positive she'd always softened the blows.

He quickly kissed the six year old's cheek and convinced him to go back to sleep; as the boy obediently responded to his _father knows best_ voice John couldn't help but marvel at the difference between Adam and Sam. Sam was his debater, thinker, always needing a reason why. _Why_ should he go to bed when he wasn't tired? _Why_ couldn't he stay up if Dean was allowed to be awake? John had often joked to Bobby and Pastor Jim that Sam's first word was "why" quickly followed by "how come?"

John left the door cracked an inch, knowing Adam was afraid of the dark and couldn't sleep without the hall light peeking in. He could still remember the first time Dean had come running to him because he believed there was something in the closet, and John had handed the five year old a knife because steel was the best defense against monsters. Four years later when Sam did it, he handed him a gun with slightly modified instructions – it was silver bullets or salt-packed iron rounds that were the best defense against monsters. By then, John had immersed himself enough into supernatural lore to pick up a few tips.

By contrast _this_ boy had a night light and a mommy to come running whenever his monsters peeked out from the dark corners of his bedroom; he didn't have loss and deprivation branded into his skin, broken bones, or weary eyes. An uncharacteristic rush of tears unmanned John for a moment, but he hid it behind a stoic mask on by the time he turned around.

"Why did you come, John? You know I hate when you just drop by unannounced. If I knew you were in the area, I would've told Mandy not to let you in."

John knew that, which is why he was thankful Mandy was a new babysitter – a teen one at that - who couldn't withstand his entreaties. Since Adam was a blond version of him, and there was a picture of them together on the mantle, she'd know he was the deadbeat dad so she'd been easily charmed into letting him in the house.

"Jesus, Katie. I just wanted to see my son. It's not a fucking crime."

"It is, John. It is! You blow through here once every few months and you get his hopes up every time that this time you'll stay. You'll be around all the time instead of whenever your job brings you around."

He mentally winced at her pointed remarks about his job; she no longer believed he was a salesman – which hadn't been a very competent lie to begin with given their initial meeting – but she never gave up trying to find out what it was exactly he did. A Hunter's life was meant to be lived in the shadows, so he left her to fill in the blanks and he knew she suspected illegal drug-running or arms dealing given the arsenal she'd once caught sight of in an unguarded moment.

"If you didn't want me to be a part of Adam's life then why did you ever tell me about him to begin with?"

Her pale face, haloed by a nimbus of streaked blond hair, reddened and her blue eyes darkened with some emotion John didn't bother to read. Kate Milligan was a stain against his soul and a breaking of his marital vows. Oh sure John had slept with bar flies from time to time after a hunt, but those women didn't count because they were forgotten the minute he pulled up his pants. Kate was different because she was the first _(and only)_ woman he'd slept with who was of the white picket fence and happily ever after variety since Mary.

Kate was the late night nurse in the E.R. when he'd been brought in by his hunting partner after getting mauled by a wendigo. Normally Jared would've just taken him back to the motel and patched him up, but the deep wounds he'd sustained during the fight had been beyond the scope of a hunter's usual mending skills. He'd been in the hospital for nearly a week, but it was enough time to get to know the soft and pretty nurse so when he was released, he'd found a place to stay in her bed. It was a brief yet intense affair which lasted for six months, though three of those months they'd only been in contact via phone since he'd had to go back for his boys and go on other hunts.

Everything had come to a head when she'd asked him where their relationship was headed; until then John had purposely blanked any emotional connotations to his interactions with her. They'd been lying in bed _(Bobby, Dean, and Sam thinking he was on a solo hunt in Maine)_ , her fingers idly tracing the scar on his chest he'd received courtesy of a sharp stick he'd been thrown onto by a pissed off ghost he was salting. He couldn't answer her silent questions so he distracted her with a kiss and overwhelmed her with physical passion to shut her up and later - once she was asleep - he'd grabbed his gear and left without a word.

Kate hadn't taken the abandonment lightly, but eventually stopped trying to contact him when he never called her back until a year later when she'd left a simple message: "Your son needs you."

If any words were guaranteed to stop John's heart, it was those. He knew he was no candidate for Father of the Year, but it didn't negate the deep love he felt for his boys; it was the showing that was harder _(and was becoming harder as the years passed)_. The emergency turned out to be minor – at least compared to what he was used to – but it brought him some measure of comfort in an odd way there was a Winchester son living the apple-pie life Sam and Dean never would.

"John, are you even listening?"

He was rusty with women, but even he knew not to answer that affirmatively. He refocused his formidable attention to the here and now, leaving off torturing himself with the painful memories of the _(relatively recent)_ past.

"Yes I am. I know I'm a fucking asshole for showing up, but I needed to make sure he was okay."

For a moment he wanted to tell her about the scare he'd had with Sam _(weird to think of him as his middle son)_ on his most recent hunt. The kid hadn't wanted to go because he had a test he didn't want to miss and Dean, as always, had stuck up for his little brother, but John had overruled them both. It turned out what was supposed to be a routine haunting was instead a juiced up pissed off witch who was cursing her enemies and the ghost was actually a death omen trying to warn people. Sam had gotten caught in the crossfire, absorbing the curse being thrown at John and fell to the floor dead.

After John had cut off the witch's head, he'd turned to his son, only Dean had found him first and was cradling his smaller body against his chest. John could swear the only reason Sam was alive was entirely due to his older brother calling for him and refusing to let go of the body, saying his Sammy wouldn't leave him alone and they just needed a few more minutes. Sure enough, a few minutes later Sam started breathing in a huge rush of air as if he couldn't bear to disappoint his big brother's expectations for him. It was the uncanniest and scariest five minutes John had lived through since Mary died.

Kate must've read some of the residual fear and panic in his face because her own militant expression eased a little and she uncurled her arms. It was when she softened that John realized she was wearing her hair up in some girly way very unlike her usual no nonsense bun or ponytail; in fact, she was dressed up like she'd gone out on the town instead of at work like he originally supposed.

"Were you out on a date?"

"So what if I was, John? It's none of your damn business."

Jealousy and indifference raged inside – the jealousy was for another man taking his place in Adam's life and the indifference was for her. He'd well and truly moved on from his moment with Kate, but he was damned if anyone else would be _Daddy_ ; John ignored Kate when she took an instinctive step back as she registered the pulsing anger narrowing his heavy black brows into a forbidding frown. He knew the leashed intensity of his tall rangy body was intimidating for the much shorter woman, but he wanted to impress upon her exactly how much it was his business.

"It is my fucking business when you bring a strange man around my son!"

"You're never here, so what would you even know about the people in my son's life?"

Her voice was lower than his, but just as venomous, bitter anger and hopelessness mingling in her tone. John felt a sting of shame but then reminded himself he was doing – if not God's work (since John wasn't sure the bastard even existed) – then good work trying to keep the norms alive and naïve just a little bit longer while he and the rest of the hunters did the dirty work.

"I know everyone in Adam's life from his kindergarten teacher Mrs. Schiele to the garbage man Joe Henderson who picks up your bins every Tuesday morning at 5 AM."

"Who are you?" she whispered, a hand rising to cover her throat as she looked at him in shock.

"I'm a father concerned with the welfare of his son. I know I'm not here in person, but I do keep tabs on him. Who did you go out with tonight?"

Still shaking at the strangeness of this conversation and the sudden realization she never truly knew John Winchester, Kate mumbled, "A few girls from work. I'm not…seeing…anyone right now."

"Jill, Candice, and Layla?"

"Er, yes, how'd you know?"

The knowing look he threw her shook her even more.

"How long will you stay this time?"

When in doubt, attack from a different direction. Her strategy was familiar to the canny Hunter, but he refused to allow her to regroup and find an excuse to cut him out of the time he'd managed to carve out to see Adam.

"I'm here as long as I am, Kate. That's all I can say."

Those words were the same refrain Dean and Sam had grown up hearing from their absentee dad, his restless nature and driving need to find the creature who'd taken Mary from her family keeping him on the go. It was the one constant they could expect from John and in a way was a form of comfort for them; or maybe it was comforting for Dean and Sam just took his cues from him, who's to say?

But unlike them, Kate was a grown woman and a roused mama bear, so she didn't have to settle for his crumbs. "No. You're not welcome and I don't want you to see Adam again unless you plan on staying in one place for longer than a few days."

John – used to having absolute control in his world – ignored her words and started striding down the hallway towards the living room. "I'll be back tomorrow and will take Adam to school."

"I filed a restraining order against you after the last visit. One call to the cops here and you'll be thrown in jail as I have every intention of pressing charges."

He froze with his hand locked around the front doorknob.

"I don't want my son to be unduly influenced by you. I have no idea who you are or what you do, and while I'm appreciative of you giving him a portion of your liver when he was a toddler, there is no further need of your presence in our lives. You're not welcome here anymore."

John's head rested gently against the wood, his breath sawing in and out of his chest as he absorbed the impact of her cruel words. He couldn't just leave his own flesh and blood unprotected and alone; what if the thing that took Mary came after Adam?

The sound of 9-1-1 being dialed shook him from his misery and he whipped around, grabbing the phone from her hand. "Don't do this to me, Kate. I can't…just…abandon him."

Rage cut fine lines into her skin. "What do you think you do every time you walk out that door and don't come back for months on end? He's young enough he'll forget you eventually. Just leave us the fuck alone and don't come back."

"It's not safe for him."

"Safe from _what_ , John? Your enemies? How could they know about him? Your name isn't on his birth certificate and I certainly haven't told anyone about you."

Dull realization flickered through him that it really _was_ safer for Adam if he wasn't around. It went against every Winchester instinct he had which demanded he take the boy and protect him like he did his other children, but how could he really? Dean was getting old enough to be more involved in the hunts and Sam didn't have his brother's touch with children, so who could he entrust his precious youngest to? John shook his head as various different hunters passed through his mind, though oddly he thought of Missouri Mosely as a possibility before pushing the thought away too. It seemed Adam really was better off here, though John refused to cut off all contact.

He'd just have to be sneakier about it.

"Okay, okay. You're right, Kate. I'll leave."

He raised sorrowing brown eyes to hers and read the disgruntled surprise in them. He briefly wondered if she had wanted him to fight harder to stay, but dismissed the speculation. She mattered little to him, and in fact had made an enemy of him by trying to keep him away from his son, no matter her reasons.

"But if he ever needs to get a hold of me, please, please give him my number?"

Kate shook her head, a few strands slipping from her upsweep and falling into her face. "No, John. You will leave and it'll be like you never existed."

He nodded once – expecting her answer – then gently placed the phone on the table before whipping around to stalk out the door.

Today she had her way, but tomorrow was always a new day.


End file.
